


forward motion

by rosecake



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Lyra Erso Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-06-28 19:49:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15713922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/pseuds/rosecake
Summary: Mon Mothma was aware of Lyra Erso's work long before she ever met the woman.





	forward motion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merfilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/gifts).



Mon Mothma was aware of Lyra Erso's work long before she ever met the woman. Lyra dealt in information: cracking code cylinders, faking credentials, putting together maps of Imperial territories and instillations, even stealing engineering schematics for new weapons. When she'd first gotten involved with resistance work she'd been firmly entrenched with the Partisans, but back then their different priorities and values hadn't mattered as much. The various resistance groups working against the Empire had been more willing to share information in those days, and plenty of intelligence gathered by Saw's people had ended up in Mon's hands. 

Over time that willingness to trust in each other had evaporated, crushed under the savagery of Imperial rule. The years of unceasing violence gave rise to paranoia across the galaxy, but fortunately for the Alliance Lyra had gone freelance by the time their tenuous relationship with the Partisans collapsed entirely. 

Her intelligence was always good, and good intelligence saved lives. Over time a few of Draven's operatives met with her face-to-face, trading supplies for fake credentials, which resulted in a few blurred photos her that he used to link up over a dozen aliases. It still took him years to uncover her real name, and it was even longer after that before his file on her ended up on Mon Mothma's desk. 

It wasn't a large file. It only took Mon a few minutes to go over it from start to finish, because information on the Erso family was difficult to come by. At some point someone had attempted to scrub all mention of them from the HoloNet. The lack of personal history didn't bother Mon, though - the work spoke for itself, and the odds of an Imperial plant lasting as long as Lyra had in the Partisans were slim to none. 

So it wasn't long before she had Lyra Erso in front of her in a small briefing room on an Alliance ship. 

"Why did you leave the Partisans?" asked Mon. 

Lyra tilted her head at the question, but her expression remained neutral. "I was lead to believe I was being recruited, but this feels a bit more like an interrogation." 

Mon had let Draven have at Lyra before meeting with her, so perhaps that impression was unavoidable. But Mon was the head of the Alliance, and as such people generally went through a fairly intensive screening process before Draven let them see her in person. "Your initial impression was correct, we are trying to recruit you. Still, I'd like to know why you left." 

There was a moment of silence before Lyra responded. "The violence," she said eventually. "I've come to accept that it's sometimes a necessity, but I still have my limits. And I didn't want my daughter following Saw's lead." There was an intensity in her gaze as she looked directly into Mon's eyes. "I came here when your people called for me because I was hoping you might lead us somewhere better." 

Draven's file had mentioned a daughter. The last mention of the girl had been when she was five, and Mon had assumed that there'd been no sighting of her after that because she'd died. Lyra wouldn't have been the first person driven to the resistance by family tragedy. It was a relief to hear that she was wrong, that the girl was still alive, apparently just very carefully hidden by her mother. Mon had already had to offer her condolences for far too many dead children since Palpatine had come to power. 

"I hope I can live up to your expectations," said Mon.

-

Lyra was an ideal soldier in most respects: calm, competent, and motivated. She still had contacts among Saw's people, people the Alliance had never managed to make inroads with before, and she made extensive use of them. That, and she adapted easily to new environments, even on the wilder, untamed planets where neither the Alliance nor the Empire had much authority. She never complained about anything the Alliance asked of her, and Mon knew that Draven had asked quite a lot of her.

Most importantly to Mon, she was capable of violence when necessary but never seemed to enjoy it, a balance that could sometimes be difficult to find in revolutionaries and insurgents. Sometimes the desire for revenge could eclipse the desire for a better future, and that was a trap Mon didn't want any of her people falling for. 

"It's a well-planned proposal," said Mon. The display in the center of the briefing room was lit up with the details of the suggested mission. The writing was clear and direct, and she would have recognized it as Lyra's work even if she hadn't already been told who it had come from. "I think it's a good idea." 

Draven shrugged. "It is," he said, and Mon waited for a moment to see if he would say anything else, but he didn't. It was dark in the briefing room, and the bright green light of the lines on the displays cast harsh shadows along his face that made him appear even more stern than usual. 

"You don't entirely trust her, do you?" asked Mon. 

Draven's mouth flattened as he looked over at her. "She might hate the Empire, but so does most of the galaxy. The success of the Rebellion isn't her priority. Her daughter is." 

"That seems like a fair enough priority for any parent," said Mon. 

"It's a risk," said Draven. "It's a weakness waiting to be exploited." 

Mon thought he sometimes expected too much of their people. In the end it didn't really matter how high the stakes were. They were all still just people, with all the emotions and weaknesses that entailed, if love could even be considered a weakness. And wasn't that the core of what they were fighting for? The right to be emotional, to be weak sometimes, to be more than just a cog in a machine.

"Regardless," said Mon, "it's a good proposal." 

Draven sighed. "It is a good proposal. I can have everything she needs for the mission ready by the end of the week."

-

The mission went well, just as Mon and everyone else involved had expected, and so when Lyra arrived back at base Mon asked her to swing by so she could congratulate her in person. Mon had intended it to be a quick thing - a gesture of appreciation, a reminder that she was grateful for everything her people did for the Alliance. She had meetings in the morning, after all, and she needed to sleep soon if she was going to be alert for them.

But once Lyra was in her rooms it was hard to find the willpower to send her off. Mon liked Lyra. She liked her smile, as rare it sometimes felt, and her casual grace. She liked the way Lyra leaned in as she spoke, as if they were sharing something secret, and the way she wasn't afraid to get so close they were touching. Arms pressing together, sometimes, or even the occasional hand on Mon's leg. And as the night got deeper, and Lyra got more affectionate, it became harder for Mon to convince herself that she really needed Lyra to leave. 

"Mon," she said, softly, her face very close to Mon's, close enough that Mon could feel Lyra's breath on her face when she spoke. She'd been joking the moment before, but her tone was suddenly serious, although still soft. "Do you want-" 

"Yes," Mon said automatically, without hesitation or thought. A second later she realized she hadn't actually let Lyra finish asking her question, but before she had a chance to think twice about anything Lyra was kissing her.  
Mon opened her mouth wider, a satisfied sigh escaping her as Lyra's hands slid around her waist, pulling her closer, closing the small distance between them in a second. 

The Alliance took all of her time these days; it was such a fragile thing, always so close to shattering, and Mon couldn't remember the last time she'd had a moment to herself. There was nothing so indescribably warm as the heat of another body pressed against her, and she'd almost managed to forget what that felt like. When Lyra pulled away, slipping smoothly from the couch they were sitting on down to the floor in front of her, Mon felt the loss of that heat keenly. 

"Why?" asked Mon, and with Lyra already on her knees it was probably too late for that kind of question, but she asked it anyway. 

Lyra reached underneath the hem of Mon's dress to stroke the soft skin right below her ankles, and Mon shuddered. "I get lonely sometimes," she said, very slowly moving her hands up Mon's legs, letting Mon's dress catch on her wrists as she softly dragged her fingers across Mon's skin. Somehow that soft touch sent sparks along the surface of Mon's whole body, up through her thighs and through her core and even up into her scalp. "It can be comforting, don't you think? To be with another person for a while. To touch someone." 

Her hands reached Mon's knees, fingers tracing over her kneecaps before moving on up to her thighs. "And I thought you might want the same thing." 

As Lyra mover her hands closer and closer to Mon's hips it began to feel less like a want and more like an all-encompassing need. 

"Yes," said Mon, leaning back on to the couch as Lyra pushed her dress the rest of the way over her hips and left it bunched up around her waist. She kissed the inside of Mon's thigh and Mon moaned in anticipation, her skin still strangely sensitive. She spread her legs wider, giving Lyra room to move her head in closer. 

Lyra ran her tongue lightly across Mon's cunt, already wet from arousal, and Mon shuddered, a warmth flooding her senses that turned electric as Lyra plunged her tongue in deeper. She grabbed Mon's thigh, using it to pull Mon closer to her face. Mon sighed and closed her eyes as Lyra kept playing with her, switching between sucking at her clit and sliding her tongue inside her as far as she could reach. 

She reached for Lyra's hair and ran her fingers through it, trying to resist the urge to take her by the head and press her deeper. Lyra sighed against her, sending another pulse of pleasure through Mon's core, and after a moment she stopped, resting her head against Mon's thigh as she shuddered. In the disorienting flush of arousal it took Mon a moment to realize that she'd been using her free hand to stroke herself while she had her mouth on Mon. 

"Lyra," she said, her thighs shaking with barely contained desire, and Lyra rubbed her nose against her cunt for a moment before mouthing it again. She grabbed Mon's thighs, her fingers digging into the muscle to pull Mon closer, the hand she'd been using on herself still wet from her own arousal. 

It wasn't long before Mon came too, her thighs tightening around Lyra's head, holding her close, and Lyra didn't move until she was still, panting and not quite wanting to move in the afterglow. Lyra was still between her thighs, licking up any last trace wetness until Mon could feel the pleasure start to build up in herself again. 

It was difficult, but she gently pushed Lyra away and rose to her feet. She made her way to her bedroom, and Lyra followed her without Mon having to ask. Her mouth was wet and red, and the sight of her so disheveled sent another wave of desire coursing through Mon. She kissed her, pulling at the knot of the sash around her waist. Lyra's robes had already been pulled open wide enough to reveal her chest, but Mon wanted the whole thing off. 

"I already came," said Lyra, pulling herself free of Mon's mouth, "you don't have to-" 

"I want to, though," said Mon, and Lyra sighed and reached for the clasp on the back on Mon's dress. She let herself be backed up against the bed, her bare skin sliding against Mon's, and spread her legs wide for Mon to move between them. 

Even with all the demands of her position, Mon could let herself be distracted for full night. That wasn't too much to ask for.

-

"What do you want when this is all over?" asked Mon. It was a question she asked nearly everyone eventually. She'd just slept with Lyra for the third time, and it seemed as good a time to ask as any.

Lyra rolled over onto her side so that she could look Mon in the face. "The fight against the Empire, you mean?" she asked, and Mon nodded. 

Lyra smiled, and it was the saddest smile Mon had ever seen on her. "What makes you think it's ever going to end?" 

Mon got that response, or some variation of it, all the time. There were plenty of people who couldn't even imagine a galaxy not laboring under Imperial rule. She wanted to change that, but it was difficult, especially when some days she had a hard time convincing even herself that it was possible. "Hope springs eternal," she said. "It's what keeps us all moving forward every day." 

"The universe is what it is," said Lyra, rolling over so that she was on her back again. "If it changes, I'll think about it then. Right now daydreaming about life after the Empire would only be setting myself for disappointment. And there's only so much of that one person can take in a lifetime." 

"I don't think you're really as hopeless as all that," said Mon, and Lyra looked at her askance. "Otherwise you wouldn't be fighting nearly so hard to make it happen." 

Lyra smiled again, a little brighter this time. "Fine," she said. "You're right. I was lying to myself a little, and so I lied to you too. I think about the future all the time, even though I know I shouldn't. Hope grows sometimes in spite of commons sense." 

"Hope is a virtue in and of itself. It doesn't need to be in spite of anything." 

"Maybe, maybe not," said Lyra. "All I know is I couldn't live with myself unless I at least tried to create a better galaxy for Jyn."

-

The intel Andor brought back with him was vague. An Imperial, the contact thought maybe a scientist, had tried to get a message out to Saw. Little more than a rumor, really, but the Alliance couldn't afford to ignore any thread that might lead them to something more, and so they'd started trying to put together the pieces. What message? Who had sent it? Why Saw, of all those opposed to the Empire, when he was the least likely of them to entertain defectors?

By the time they'd figured out the rough connections Jyn had disappeared, and Lyra had followed shortly thereafter. Things had spiraled out from there. 

"This is a disaster," said Draven, pads spread out in front of him. He wanted facts, clearly, and the best anyone had managed to provide was rumor and theory. The Empire was building a weapon, but when was the Empire ever not arming itself? Maybe it was something new, or maybe it was just a variation on the same old monstrosities they'd been dealing with for years now. 

"You sent Andor after them?" she asked, and Draven nodded. 

Jyn, Lyra, and Cassian, and it wasn't clear which of the three of them was going to make it to the messenger first. Assuming the whole thing was anything more than rumor in the first place. She knew Draven was livid with Lyra for leaving without a word. Presumably with no plan and no thought of how this might affect the greater Alliance. 

Mon wasn't angry. She'd understood Lyra's priorities from the start, so she could hardly blame her for chasing after her daughter now. And, in the end, she trusted Lyra's judgment. If the message was important, Lyra would make sure it made it's way back to the Alliance. If something needed to be done, Lyra would do it.

It was almost impossible to tell how things were going to shake out, but Mon was still hopeful. There was a feeling in her chest, and she couldn't explain where it had come from, but it told her that a change was coming. A shift in the balance of power, one that could either lead to disaster or bring with it an opportunity. Or maybe it was the end of the Alliance finally coming for them and she was only fooling herself into thinking they could outlive the Empire. 

If so, it didn't matter. She'd hold out hope until she was dead.


End file.
